Today, my father and I visited the graveyard. The air was heavy and still, silence surrounding us as we cleaned the graves of our old relatives. We pulled away the wild greens that had grown over time, our hands moving without words. My father’s face was calm but thoughtful, lost in quiet remembrance.

As we left, I glanced back at the cleared graves, realizing how easily time can cover what is left behind. But with each visit, each small act of care, we keep their memory alive -proof that they are never truly forgotten.